Watch Me Burn
by ThisCatalyst'sPen
Summary: With the existence of mutants revealed the world was suddenly swallowed in flames. No place was left untouched by the blaze and the lives of both humans and mutants spiralled into chaos. This was the life that tore the turtles apart when they were just tots, and it's the life they have to learn to survive in. But together, it will be the life they arise above to become... heroes
1. Prologue- Ashes

**Summary:** With the existence of mutants revealed, the world was suddenly swallowed in flames. No place was left untouched by the blaze and the lives of both humans and mutants alike spiralled into chaos. This was the life that tore the turtles apart when they were just tots, and it's the life they have to learn to survive in. But together, it will be the life they arise above to become...heroes.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the turtles, nor do I have any rights with owning them. All rights belong to their respective owners.

**Author's Note: **The original idea for this story has been floating around in my wee-little head for quite some time now. As I began to think more and more of how I wanted the story to progress, I realized that I wouldn't be able to do it by myself. I contacted two of my friends on this site; **RedWritingRebel **and **TheThirdAetas. **They both very kindly agreed to help, and soon enough, all of our ideas were piling in, and we were faced with pages upon pages of ideas, character profiles and plot outlines. After about two months of hard work, we were finally able to compile all of our ideas together in a more constructed format. The story had finally taken shape, and we all knew which direction we were heading in. But, then came the hard part; starting to write the first few chapters. There are a lot of details to be written, and a lot of things we want to show throughout this story, and, with some hard work, I think we are on our way to achieving that.

So this story is not only written by me, but also by the amazingly talented **RedWritingRebel **and **TheThirdAetas. **We have broken the chapters up and each selected the ones we wish to write. Although this story is posted on my profile, I would like to make it clear that this is not just my story; it's all three of ours. Unfortunately, **RedWritingRebel **and I have not heard from **TheThirdAetas **for quite a few months now, and have decided (though it was a hard decision), to continue with this story. If you are still out there somewhere **TheThirdAetas, **please do not think that we have given up on you or abandoned you; we are waiting for you to jump back in at anytime.

So I'd like to give a big thank you to **TheThirdAetas **and **RedWritingRebel **for all of your amazing ideas and contributions to this story. I am very happy and privileged to be writing this alongside you.

And now, without further ado, here is the prologue for **Watch Me Burn; **which at first started out as a story, but now has become so much more...

This story is an AU

**The prologue has been written by **_**ThisCataylst'sPen.**_

* * *

**~Watch Me Burn~**

-Prologue-

_Ashes_

* * *

_A spark neglected makes a mighty fire. _

_ ~Robert Herrick_

* * *

_-April-_

_**When**_ the world first discovered that mutants exist, and were actively walking amongst us, everything was thrown into chaos. We were inches away from a Third World War, the consequences of which would have been devastating.

People started to change. In a world where being different was already frowned upon by most, anyone who so much as had strangely coloured eyes were classed as a mutant or a freak. Fights broke out on the streets, protesters were beaten and stoned, and people started killing each other, simply because they were afraid of something that was different.

After the first mutant was discovered, the other mutants couldn't hide any-more It wasn't long before scores of mutants from every country in the world were discovered, much to everyone else's horror. There were violent uproars everywhere, and protests at every street corner, which became increasingly more graphic and violent as the days went by. Mutants were being killed left, right and centre, and no one seemed to care. People would hang their bodies from trees or lampposts as graphic warnings to the other mutants in an effort to frighten them off.

The vile hatred that everyone showed towards the mutants sickened and appalled me. Don't get me wrong, I was just as shocked as everyone else to discover that mutants actually exist, but even though I tried for a while, I couldn't bring myself to hate them. Instead, I felt sorry for them. I mean, they can't _help_what they are and what they look like. As far as I've seen, they are just like me and everyone else. They have feelings and emotions, and can be hurt just like everyone else. They speak and think and feel; everything that makes us human.

To me, the mutants were just as human as I was. They deserved equality, not _this;_this sickening and disgusting injustice the rest of the world subjected them to.

It wasn't long before the mutants were rounded up and captured, and brought and sold amongst us, being treated like garbage, and used for slavery. Owning a mutant became the next biggest 'fashion icon and must have', and it wasn't long before every wealthy person in the world owned their own personal mutant slave. Some of them would be nothing more than statues, being showed and modelled for the rest of the world. Others would become everyday servants; cleaning the house and waiting upon their owner's every need. The stronger mutants would be used for hard labour, working under the harsh sun all day, or being sent into the mines to work ridiculously long hours in less than poor conditions. And when they had finally had enough, when they couldn't work any longer and would drop to the ground in exhaustion, they were shot and tossed into a hole to rot.

Other mutants weren't so lucky. Some would be taken away for experimentation, so scientists could learn about 'the outstanding well of possible scientific discoveries.' Some mutants were hunted down like animals, cut up and displayed like trophies on a wall. But the lowest of the low; some mutants were bought and sold on the Black Market for nothing more than being sex objects.

However, despite all of this, there were a few protesting groups around the world that actively stood up for Mutant Rights. If these protestor groups were found though, the police would apprehend them and throw them into prison, and more often than not, beat them and sometimes even kill them to silence them; even though they were still human.

It wasn't long after the first human protesting group was found and publicly hanged that the Four Agreements were formed.

The Government formulated a plan on how to effectively deal with the rising mutant population. Depending on the results of a set of general tests every mutant had to undergo, they ultimately had four places to be sent too.

The first was to be sent outside of the US and into foreign countries, where anything could happen to them, so long as they weren't 'our problem' anymore. This was called the International Agreement.

The second option was to be sent for community service under the direction of human employers, where the mutants would do all the jobs that their human employers wanted them to. This is called the Local Agreement.

The third Agreement is the Regional Agreement, where mutants are sent around the state and forced to do hard, manual labour.

And the fourth Agreement is where mutants live with wealthy humans and became their personal slaves and 'pets'. This is known as the Private Agreement and is the most popular Agreement in the US, with more than forty percent of the population owning their own personal mutant.

But despite all of this, there is still a small ember of hope. For years now, rumours about a group of mutants and humans working together to demolish the laws against mutants has been circulating around the US. Slowly gaining numbers and strength, this group called The Resistance is rumoured to be getting ready to stand up against the humans, and fight for equal rights for mutants.

These aren't rumours though. And the reason why I know is because I am a part of it.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope everyone enjoyed the prologue and general storyline. The next chapter will be longer and hopefully a bit more informative, and will be in the point of view of one of the turtles.

Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated; I'd love to hear what you think about this thus far :)

Until the next time,

~Cat, Rebel, Aetas


	2. Chapter 1- Inferno

**Summary:** With the existence of mutants revealed, the world was suddenly swallowed in flames. No place was left untouched by the blaze and the lives of both humans and mutants alike spiralled into chaos. This was the life that tore the turtles apart when they were just tots, and it's the life they have to learn to survive in. But together, it will be the life they arise above to become...heroes.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the turtles, nor do I have any rights with owning them. All rights belong to their respective owners.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you for the feedback so far; it's always nice to know that other people are enjoying the story as much as we enjoy writing it.

**This chapter has been written by **_**ThisCataylst'sPen.**_

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**-Watch Me Burn-**

-Chapter One-

_Inferno_

* * *

"_Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean."_

_-Maya Angelou_

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_-Raphael-_

_**He**_ could hear them behind him, their loud footsteps crashing noisily through the thick brush that swamped the land. They were getting closer, their shouts echoing loudly in the air around him.

He was running out of breath, and the muscles in his legs were beginning to burn with the effort. A frustrated growl escaped through his clenched teeth as he propelled his arms harder, forcefully ignoring the aching pain that was developing rapidly in his sides. Those three weeks of being held prisoner on a ship sailing towards Russia on harsh seas had really taken a toll on his overall fitness. Three weeks of being locked in chains, barely able to move his limbs, and trying to survive on a diet of nothing but old fish.

Raphael dodged around a low-hanging branch, and jumped over an uprooted root, stumbling on the uneven ground. His body swayed as he tried to righten himself, finding it hard to move his large bulk agilely through the Dead Woods.

The Dead Woods was a sprawling twelve hectares of lifeless undergrowth and long-dead trees, their naked branches reaching out to claw at the grey sky above them. But despite the inert state of the woods, there was a lot of old undergrowth, fallen limbs, tangled vines, and gnarled stumps that were hardly a few miles from the border of New York City, there really wasn't any other direction to go but forward.

Raphael bit back a curse as an olive vine coiled around his arm and tangled him up. Growling in annoyance, Raphael ripped his arm free, swatting the offending vine away before continuing on once more at the harsh pace he had set.

The fire that was burning in his sides was quickly turning into an inferno. Gasping for breath and clutching his sides, Raphael dared a quick look behind him. He couldn't see any of the MEs', but he could still hear their shouts and approaching footsteps, though they sounded like they were getting further and further behind.

_Guess they're having a hard time runnin' through here too, _Raphael thought grimly to himself, looking around the mangled trees and scattered under-brush for a place to hide.

The MEs, or rather, 'Mutant Exterminators,' were a group of people, who Raphael believed had nothing better to do than hunt mutants for fun, capturing them and killing them like they were animals. Sometimes, if they caught a mutant, they would sell them on the Black Market for some cold hard cash. But most of the time they stuffed them and mounted them on their walls as trophies for the rest of the sick world to see.

A low embankment caught Raphael's eyes, a few metres off to his right. The embankment was surrounded on all four sides by long, scraggly grass, providing the perfect cover. Quickly, Raphael jumped over the embankment and landed in a pond of putrid mud and fetid water.

"Fuck," he swore, hacking up the foul water that he had accidentally swallowed. The water was cold, and slimy, and filled with unknown substances that Raphael didn't want to think about.

"I think he went this way! Come on!"

Raphael froze, his muscles tensing as he quickly held his breath, being careful not to make the slightest of movements or sounds.

"Let's look over here," a voice startlingly close to Raphael's hiding place called. The words were soon followed by footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of a rifle being loaded.

Knowing he was going to regret it, Raphael took a deep breath before immersing himself completely under the rancid water.

And he couldn't have done it a moment sooner. Three figures stepped over the embankment, looking down into the putrid water and scanning the surrounding scrub for any sign of Raphael. The three figures were blurry at best under the dirty water, but Raphael could just make out the various guns and hunting knives they had strapped to their person, glittering wickedly in the early morning light.

"I don't see im' Butch, maybe he done gone the other way," one of the figures said, shifting his gun back over his shoulder, scratching his head in confusion.

"Jack's right, there ain't nothin' over here. Alive anyway," the second figure said, spitting next to his foot.

"Well he can't of just vanished inta' thin air!" The third man cried, tossing his hands up in obvious exasperation.

"He must have backtracked off the trail," the one known as Jack said, absently scratching his unshaven beard.

"Alright, let's go look then."

Raphael waited a few seconds after they had disappeared from view, before breaking the surface, coughing up mouthfuls of dirty water as his aching lungs burned for oxygen. Taking deep breaths of the precious element, Raphael waited for his racing heartbeat to slow down before straining his ears for the slightest of sounds.

All was quiet except for the occasional chirp of a bird off in the distance, and the buzzing of a cicada. Sighing in relief, Raphael slowly pulled himself out of the rancid water, grimacing in disgust as mud and slime clung to his body.

"That's jus' gross," he muttered, the rank smell filling his nostrils.

Making sure he was truly alone, and no MEs were hiding in the nearby shrub, Raphael climbed back up the embankment, wiping off as much of the filth as he could on the long grass.

Straightening up, Raphael surveyed his surroundings with a frown. He was coming to the edge of the Dead Woods, which brought him close to New York City's border. Knowing there was nothing but more dead trees and smelly embankments behind him, Raphael realized that the only direction to go now was forward…even if it did bring him right to the middle of the mutant population…

Casting a glance up at the early morning sky, which was rapidly becoming brighter, Raphael knew that if he wanted to stay hidden, he would have to move now, whilst shadows were still being cast.

Running over to the tree line, Raphael concealed himself as best he could within the shadows, moving quickly and as silently as he could. He knew the MEs were still out there somewhere, and he didn't want to chance running into them again, especially now that someone could probably pick up his scent from a mile away.

Mumbling about stupid muddy pools and dirty water, Raphael continued along until he could see the first few buildings on the horizon. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, Raphael slowed his pace to a cautious walk, scanning his new surroundings carefully.

A few metres ahead of him, The Dead Woods ended completely, trailing off into nothing but vast, empty desert. He would have to travel at least three kilometres out in the open, where anyone could see him, with no cover whatsoever. Gritting his teeth in stubborn determination, Raphael decided it was a risk worth taking.

Taking one more cautious look around, Raphael stepped out of the tree cover, and out into the open. He was exhausted, his lungs burning for air and his muscles still screaming from his earlier sprint. But he knew he would have to keep running, hell he would have to _sprint _these three kilometres if he didn't want to get spotted. Steeling himself for his run, Raphael took off like a bullet, pumping his arms and legs furiously, and gnashing his teeth together against the fire that burned through his body.

He hadn't gone more than two hundred metres when Raphael realized it was a trap. Hidden under a layer of dirt was a thin loop of metal, which instantly tightened around Raphael's ankle as soon as he stepped in it.

Crying out in surprise and pain, Raphael stumbled, his right leg jarred from the sudden force around his ankle. Stumbling roughly into the dirt, Raphael twisted around and saw the glittering length of metal coiled around his foot. Snarling, he tried to tug his foot free, which only caused him to gasp in pain as the metal tightened.

"Well, well, well, lookie what we have here boys."

Raphael froze, eyes going wide as he slowly turned around to look up into the stern faces of four MPOs.

_Shit, I'm done for, _Raphael mentally swore, a snarl of frustration and defiance curling his lips.

The MPOs were a lot different to the MEs, and Raphael couldn't decide which of them were worse. The MPOs, 'Mutant Police Officials,' were like police men, only for mutants. Employed by the government, MPOs caught any unlicensed and unregistered mutants and brought them in to the Mutant Registration Office, which was a place where every single official document about every single mutant was kept. It was also a place where mutants were brought and sold like property to the highest bidder, used as slaves, or sometimes, even _'entertainment.'_

"Looks like we caught ourselves a runaway," a tall man with a standard buzz cut sneered, looking down at Raphael with cold grey eyes, which were alight with mirth.

"Let's load him in the truck," the second man said, idly chewing on a piece of Tabaco.

"Touch me and you'll be sorry," Raphael growled, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Who said anything about touching you?" Buzz-cut grinned. "Eddie?"

The one known as Eddie stepped forward with a smile, pulling a small black device from his pocket.

"What tha hell is that thing?" Raphael asked, eyeing the black device nervously. If it came from the pocket of an MPO it couldn't be good.

"What, this?" Eddie asked with a grin, holding up the small device for Raphael to see. "Just a new toy I've been playing with."

Before Raphael could say anything, Eddie pressed a small red button on the device with a soft _click. _Seconds later, agonizing pain swept over Raphael, engulfing his entire body within seconds.

"Arrgghhh!"Raphael screamed as the fiery hot pain danced across his skin. His muscles began to spasm and cramp, his vision turned blurry, and it felt like thousands of tiny needles were being dug into every inch of his skin.

"Get him into the truck," Buzz-cut said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the large black truck parked a few metres away.

"Will do, Boss," Eddie said, crouching down beside Raphael and producing a length of rope from his pockets. Grabbing Raphael's still spasming hands, he tied them together tightly, the rope biting harshly into his skin. Undoing the noose around his ankle, Eddie and one of the other MPOs grabbed him by the shell, none too lightly, and started dragging him towards the open compartment in the back of the truck, which Raphael could make out from this distance as being a large animal cage.

Raphael struggled in their hands, but the shock from the tazer had drained all his energy, and turned his limbs to jelly.

The MPOs grunted as they lifted him and tossed him without a second thought into the cage and slammed the door shut, leaving Raphael in darkness. The cage was too small; there was no room for him to move around in, let alone stand up. The cold metals bars dug painfully into his skin, and his wrists were already red and raw from the rope binding them together. Raphael knew it was pointless to try and break free of the cage. Resigning himself to the ride, Raphael sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the bars.

In the silence and shadows, Raphael's mind began to wonder, and before he knew it, he was lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the truck.

* * *

_Raphael snarled angrily at the thick band of metal that was clasped around his neck like a collar, labelling him as someone's 'pet.' He tried to fight back as he was dragged through the polished and sweeping hallways of his new home, three large guards dragging him by thick-coiled chains. The new house he was in was like one he had never seen before. The sprawling three story mansion sat on a comfortable twenty hectares of mowed green lawns and watered flowerbeds. The inside of the old-brickwork house was just as lavish as the gardens, if not more so. The walls were gilded with beautiful gold fixtures, and the polished white marbled floors gleamed from hours of cleaning. Family portraits and rich tapestries hung from the walls, and beautiful crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Large hand-made pots stood tall upon pedestals, overflowing with beautiful flowers of every colour and every sweet scent._

_For a moment, Raphael felt bad about walking through the pristine house, being as dirty as he was, but then he realized that he didn't care. Whoever owned this house was going to be his new 'owner.'_

_With this thought Raphael tried to shake as much dirt and grime off himself as possible and onto the white-washed walls._

_The sound of voices and high-heels clicking on the marble floor drifted down the hall, making Raphael stiffen._

_A young woman, no older than thirty, came around the corner, dressed in an elegant black pant-suit, her long blonde hair straightened to perfection and cascading down her slim shoulders._

_Raphael instantly disliked her._

"_Oh, I suppose they have sent me a new one?" she asked, her voice holding a light Russian accent._

_A smile twisted on her features – the kind that could cajole the strongest men into trusting her._

_Then her sharp eyes turned to Raphael. "Yes," she purred, gracefully pulling strands of her hair back behind her ear. "Yes they have."_

* * *

Raphael jerked awake, his chest heaving and sweat lightly clinging to his aching body. Shaking his head, Raphael rubbed his eyes fiercely to try and get rid of the images that still played there. The car had stopped, and the sound of the city filled Raphael's ears, making him shudder in repulsion.

He hated the city; hated everything about it and everyone in it.

The doors opened, and the ugly faces of the MPOs smirked down at him.

Raphael really hated them.

"Come on mutant, time to go to the Registration Office," Eddie said with a wink, grabbing Raphael roughly by the shell and pulling him out of the car.

"Hey, watch the shell," Raphael growled lowly, instinctively pulling away from the hands holding him.

Eddie scoffed as Buzz-cut came around his other side, grabbing Raphael's other side. Making sure that his hands were firmly restrained, they pushed Raphael forward, leading him towards a large building across the street.

People were quick to move out of the way once they saw Raphael, while others just stopped in the middle of the street and stared with open-mouthed amazement and horror. Raphael thought that it was just plain rude to stare, and angrily told anyone who got too close.

Raphael looked up at the building they were leading him to and felt a wave of terror seize him. If they took him in there, they could sell him to anyone for any purpose. And Raphael could not go through that again.

Making the decision, Raphael used all his strength to tear free from Eddie and Buzz-cut, dropping to the ground quickly and sweeping their feet out from beneath them. Hands still tightly bound, Raphael leapt over their fallen bodies and made a run for it. He knew he only had a matter of minutes before he would be pursued. No pedestrian would even _think _about trying to stop him, so repelled were they from his appearance.

Getting as far away from that awful building as possible, Raphael pushed through heavy crowds of people and ran across busy roads, jumping over any cars that came into his path. He thought he was doing a rather good job, and was just starting to believe that he had managed to lose the MPOs when a woman's terrified shriek stopped him in his tracks.

Turning around, Raphael saw what had caused the sudden cry. A small stroller with a child in it had rolled onto the road, right in front of an oncoming truck.

Something inside of Raphael stopped him from turning away. Granted, he hated humans with a passion but... he couldn't let this innocent child be killed... could he?

Pushing away all thoughts of escape, Raphael raced across the street towards the stroller, ignoring the cries of onlookers and car horns. The truck beeped its horn in warning, the driver inside knowing that there was no way he could stop in time or go around the stroller. At some stage during the rescue, the rope that had been binding his hands had snapped.

Years of running paid off as Raphael leapt at the stroller, picking up the small child inside and leaping out of the way, just as the truck swept by. Raphael felt the side of the truck clip his right arm, sending him hurtling painfully to the ground. His arm throbbed with pain, and Raphael was sure that he had broken it. Trying to ignore it, he got slowly to his feet, the child held safely in his arms.

Cautiously walking over to the stunned mother and bewildered onlookers, Raphael handed the child to its mother.

"Here," he muttered, stepping back quickly once the child was removed from his hold.

"Oh, my baby! What have you done to my baby!" the mother cried hysterically, holding the child protectively to her chest, trying to shield it from Raphael.

"The baby's fine," Raphael growled, hurt and confused by the woman's actions.

A large group of people had crowded around, and Raphael noticed that they didn't look happy.

"Dirty mutant!"

"Filth!"

"You're just a freak"

The angry cries made Raphael flinch. Clenching his fists together, he looked around desperately for an escape, the shouted words hurting him more than he cared to admit.

Through the crowd and swell of raised voices, Raphael's eyes briefly caught those of a woman, who, unlike everyone else, wasn't shouting. She stood at the back of the crowd, an unusual expression on her face, almost like she felt _sorry _for him. Her vibrant red hair stood out from the rest of the crowd, and when the sun shone on it, it almost seemed like it was on _fire. _

As the crowd moved in closer around Raphael, the woman pushed her way to the front of the crowd and suddenly stepped in front of him, like she was trying to shield him.

"Can't you see, he was just trying to help!" the woman shouted angrily and in disgust. "You, he was just trying to help you!"

"You're just a filthy freak!"

Raphael growled and stepped forward at the insult, but a sharp, stinging pain in his cheek made him stop. Raphael looked down at the shattered bottle at his feet, holding a hand up against his bleeding face. He could taste blood on his lips, and droplets fell into his eye, blinding him momentarily.

Rough hands grabbed him once more, and pulled his hands roughly behind his shell. The angry faces of Eddie and Buzz-cut sneered at him as a group of MPOs surrounded him, guns aimed straight at his head.

Raphael sagged into their arms, allowing them to drag him away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman watching him, and for a moment, thought that she was going to step in and stop them.

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**Author's Notes: **I hope this chapter proved to be a little more interesting, and I hope that you gained a little insight on our red-wearing turtle.

Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated; I'd love to hear what you think about this thus far :)

Until the next time,

~Cat, Rebel, Aetas


	3. Chapter 2- Wildfire

**Summary:** With the existence of mutants revealed, the world was suddenly swallowed in flames. No place was left untouched by the blaze and the lives of both humans and mutants alike spiralled into chaos. This was the life that tore the turtles apart when they were just tots, and it's the life they have to learn to survive in. But together, it will be the life they arise above to become...heroes.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the turtles, nor do I have any rights with owning them. All rights belong to their respective owners.

**Author's Notes: **Thank you for the feedback so far; it's always nice to know that other people are enjoying the story as much as we enjoy writing it. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

**This chapter has been written by **_**RedWritingRebel**_

* * *

**-Watch Me Burn-**

-Chapter Two-

_Wildfire_

* * *

"_In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.__"_

_-__Albert Schweitzer_

* * *

___-Leonardo-_

_**There's**_ no easy life. Despite all the vindictive glares shot at him, despite the whispers of 'lapdog', the slurs of _traitor_, the envious looks... in reality Leonardo really had it no better than the other mutants.

And what he did have, he deserved. Just like all the rest.

The uniform clad turtle paced in front of three dozen mutants, their chains clanging against rust and stone as they rubbed a defaced prison wall. Buckets sloshed with water, loud and echoing in the Dayroom. Leo's sharp breaths were lost in the noise.

He needed to stay calm. Anger only proved to be an enemy to him. But when his gaze raised, he found that control wasn't easy to hold to.

A caricature distortion of the warden scowled down at him in an array of messy streaks; his eyes demon red; his teeth jagged and yellow; the chain noosed around his neck the starkest metal ever folded into binds; and the blood that drained his body a sickly pale painted a clear message along the wall: _Down_ _with the_ _Shredder._

Onyx eyes flinted away from the scene. From the hatred. And instead narrowed on a puddle of scarlet blossoming in the centre of the room like a rose. A demented comparison, but one that continued into the bud, or in reality: the mutant responsible for smuggling the spray paint into the prison.

Just another mess for the prisoners to clean.

His fists tightened, the ticking of the clock like a fly in his ear. "Scrub harder, paint doesn't remove itself!" he barked.

A dozen pairs of eyes turned to sneer at him, the others didn't move. The others knew better. Leonardo squared his stance beneath the scrutiny and tapped a finger off a metal plate sewn into his belt. It lit up the dimness and every shackle on every prisoner. Another touch would strike the mutants to their knees.

The young turtle didn't like inflicting his wards with electricity, but they outnumbered him too greatly for chances. By now they understood he wouldn't be faint about punishment.

After all, he did learn from the best...

"Just listen to him," a women hissed, her orange fur soaked brown with mixing paints.

A growl rumbled past fangs. "I won't be made a fool of by this traitor." Water splashed as the mutant dropped his sponge and stepped forwards, his neck cracking like too hot coals.

"You _are_ a fool," another slurred. "Just look at Mink. He's dead! They'll treat you no different than him."

Leonardo shook his head at the volatile brute who paid no heed to his companions' warnings. Nor to the darkening gaze of Leo. "Back in line, 413. _Now_."

The command fell upon deaf ears.

With a steeling resolve, Leo slid his thumb over the plate until only the approaching abomination's chains glowed. In his mind, the voice of his master echoed.

_'Mutants are self destructive. They aren't meant to exist and they know this. So every day is spent in a battle between eradication and the animistic desire to survive.'_

413 was clearly aching for eradication.

A button depressed and the chamber exploded with the pain filled howls of the mutant. He crumpled to the ground like a tree struck with lighting, and there, uprooted from his steely hatred, he burned. He withered and seized as his limbs went limp to an opponent he had no chance of fighting off.

For several seconds, the tormented cries were the only sound. Eyes never turned from the scene, despite every desire to see no more. Tonight, as the prisoners laid awake, 413's howls would echo within their skulls. And within their lids would be the smoke sizzling up from his charred fur.

Leo knew because it would be the same for him. It had been before.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Leo let it go. The power cut off as quick as it had started and the other prisoners drew back to their forgotten sponges.

The turtle watched, for a long moment, as the words painted on the wall were washed away one letter at a time. Relief lightened his shoulders and a ragged breath drew his stony gaze down.

Leonardo swung up the nearest bucket and drenched the still spasming mutant; the sponge slopped onto his heaving chest. "Now get back in line." He barked. "Unless you want to try that again?"

413 growled.

Leo's lip twitched with a warning. "Electricity doesn't bode well with water," he said.

Nothing more was needed. 413 staggered to his feet like a half blind drunkard and slapped the sponge against the wall.

As much as Leo hated to admit it, he'd much rather be moved to a higher level, among killers even, than spend another day on guard duty to a bunch of juveniles. Mutant danger level increased with every floor one climbed.

Security was pin tight on the upper floors; every mutant was tagged with tracking devices, shock collars, and vital reading tools. No escapes, no fights, no suicides. And only an hour of release from their solitary confinement each day. And that was in a barred up courtyard. In the largest mutant prison in the state, these measures were essential.

A can of spray paint would never magically appear up there. And here on the fourth floor? Here it was unacceptable. To Leo, it was criminal.

To his master... it was failure.

_Tick_ _tock._ The sound was distant, cascading down from above the cells that surrounded this chamber. For Leonardo, it connected the past and present.

_It recalled the impossibly long halls he spent months being led through, his small steps timed to every motion of a clock's fastest hand. On the outside, people called that building a Public Service Office. Leo called it_order_._

_With all the chaos around him, he found sanctuary in the perfectly square rooms, the matching halls, the manila folders, the routines that never wavered. And then there were the Agreements..._

_As a child, the very word sounded daunting. It passed between the other prisoners like wildfire, roaring as it destroyed the calm Leo cherished. One by one, both old and young, mutants were separated and corralled to specific cell blocks._

_When they came for him, his small hands shook.__But he stood without a fight and marched to the ticking of the clocks.__Three halls later, letters painted already grave faces pale:_ LocalAgreement

_Already wide eyes grew wider, and for just a moment Leo faltered beneath the bold words. Then he was moving again, jostled by those behind him._

_Scattered within that cell block were manila folders and stoic faced humans. They all looked the same: cold._

_But the one that fixed his eyes on Leo was pure ice. He radiated with a chill that clambered up the small turtle's spine and stoled his calm._

_Back then, that human wasn't known as the Shredder. His so called cruelty that branded that nickname on him didn't yet have a platform. He had yet to head the largest mutant prison in the state of New York._

_That didn't make Leo any less afraid of him. Of the man who's smile was piercing and only grew sharper as he read Leonardo's file aloud, as if he wanted the other humans to wither in jealousy._

"_Highly impressive,__you__shall__serve me well_." are all the words Leo remembered now, after what must be a decade of time since that day. Maybe longer.

With the constant ticking of the clocks that followed him from that old building and had been by his side ever since, one would think he were counting the seconds. That he knew enough to be as exact as a timekeeper. The truth was, time had no meaning to the young turtle. His attention for it was in the unwavering precision of every tick.

He was trained to that sound. He slept to it, he ate to it, he lived _by_ it.

He found order in it.

So when the next hour struck with the blaring of bells, Leo knew which door would open and who would step from its cover. It was with the utmost misfortune that the caricature's head was still noosed and waiting for his master's eyes.

The prisoners froze to the sound of metallic steps. And so did Leo's heart.

"Who is responsible for this!"

Leonardo snapped straighter, facing his master with the urgency of a neurotic dog. He cleared his throat and bowed.

"I already took care of it, Master." he motioned towards the dead, though he had nothing to do with the murder of the mutant. The others guards had handled that before retreating for lunch.

Shredder growled low, leveling his steely eyes at the young turtle. The sneer was of deep disappointment and a promise of punishment. Nothing Leo hadn't endured before.

Nothing he didn't deserve...

With a flick of his wrist, the dark haired human ironed down his rolled up sleeve. "Just see to it this doesn't happen again."

Leo bowed once more. "Yes, Master."

His sneer turned to a smile. In it, Leonardo could almost see the resemblance to what the mutants had drawn on the metal wall.

"And once this mess is cleaned, I expect you in my office." the warden left without another word.

From the corner of his eye, Leo saw the grin of 413. He watched as it spread from face to face. And for fifteen long minutes he almost wished he had let the brute fry.

Almost.

Then it was over. The paint was gone. Every mutant lined up to leave, all flashing looks that screamed of won justice.

"New prisoner!"

Leo turned at the call, automatically scanning the confines of the prison to see what he would soon have to deal with. Over the bob of heads filing towards the cells, Leo saw it: Emerald skin and a battle scarred shell.

Warning bells echoed through Leo's mind, striking lightning through his paranoia. He shook his head firmly, his hands turning to fists as a grimace began to twist his features. Pivoting on his heels, he threw the image out of his mind and stalked towards his warden's office.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **This brilliant chapter was written by **_RedWritingRebel_**, as I stated at the top. I hope you all enjoyed her introduction to Leonardo.**_ Rebel_** will also be writing the next chapter, and I the chapter after that.

Thank you for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated; I'd love to hear what you think about this thus far :)

Until the next time,

~Cat, Rebel, Aetas


	4. Chapter 3- Firebrand

**Summary:** With the existence of mutants revealed, the world was suddenly swallowed in flames. No place was left untouched by the blaze and the lives of both humans and mutants alike spiralled into chaos. This was the life that tore the turtles apart when they were just tots, and it's the life they have to learn to survive in. But together, it will be the life they arise above to become...heroes.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the turtles, nor do I have any rights with owning them. All rights belong to their respective owners.

**Author's Notes: **Here it is everybody, the next part for **WMB!** I hope you enjoy, and there will be more to come soon!

**This chapter has been written by **_**RedWritingRebel**_

* * *

******-Watch Me Burn-**

-Chapter Three-

_Firebrand_

* * *

_"Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire."  
-William Butler Yeats_

* * *

_-Donatello-_

_**From**_ the outside, the house was unassuming. Stacked tall and sandwiched narrow between two others, it demanded no attention. Not even a glance from its rows of clones or the residences within. After all, a few missing shutters and graying bricks were nothing exciting.

But on the inside, a mutant lurked. And if the neighbors knew that, well, he was as good as dead. Ragtag mutant haters and the ME's cared little about laws, about the paper work and tagging that filed him beneath the _PrivateAgreement_—as a house servant.

Donatello sighed to himself, cringing as the smell of cleaning chemicals met his next inhale. What he wouldn't give to open a window. Mentally rolling his eyes, Don tossed dirty rags and multicolored spray bottles into a bucket and stood up. He cast a weary glance around the cramped bathroom, searching for missed stains. Relief unwound the pinch in his shoulders when the investigation came back negative. And to that, he left the cage of a room for the long and narrow hall.

A tall man with salt and pepper hair met him outside the threshold. Beneath his arm a newspaper was burrowed like a hibernating bear. "Donatello," the man droned, his nose looking like it was trying to learn to fly.

The turtle clasped the bucket before himself and bowed as much as he could in the limited space. Water sloshed at the edges, but did not spill. "Sir," he responded. When the man's lazy green eyes only stared at him, as if annoyed, Don skirted into the hall and watched as the man disappeared within the walls he had just scrubbed clean.

"Disgusting mutant," the insult was followed by the sound of something that topped Don's list of repellent things.

_If you think_I'm_disgusting, you should see what I just cleaned._

The retort went unspoken. Trouble, after all, was the last thing the young turtle needed. With that in mind, he set to dusting—the most mundane and monotonous task ever devised. And so, as he wandered to every corner to eradicate bunnies and evict spiders, his mind did the same.

* * *

The O'Neils were the kindest owners Donatello has worked for. Under them, the turtle had a lumpy futon and closet sized room to call his own, not to mention decent meals on a regular basis. The two who bought him before banished him to a kennel of sorts, and only allowed him out when they came down from their near nightly highs and wanted a clean place to sleep... or not, as was too often the case.

Donatello was a child full of curiosity and starving for logic in a place where stupidity thrived. Selling him to addicts for pennies didn't exactly scream rational. Filing him under the Private Agreement felt like a waste when his mind had so much to offer. And that was just it: the turtle was too intelligent for his own good. Despite any contributions or advancements the mutant could make, his not being human bogged danger down in every mind that read his file.

Warning lights lit up eyes, one after another. Manila folders and brightly colored charts were his undoing every time. His seemingly docile nature wasn't worth the risk.

Solution? Dumb him down. And who better to poison his brain than two idiots who got a kick out of melting theirs on a daily basis? Bashing his skull into concrete would have been less painful.

Those Druggies eventually sold him on the black market to the very Dealer who supplied them with their fix. It had been months of hell beneath the mobster's thumb. In which Don, still just a kid himself, watched as adolescents and adults alike strode up to the car, long and sleek as a black cat, tapped on the bullet proof windows, and passed cash through to renew their stash.

But that wasn't the worse part. Oh no.

Donnie was leashed and led behind tattooed men, kept in the shadows with a muzzle on his mouth. His naturally owlish wide eyes glowed through the darkness of warehouses and backseats. The turtle had two purposes: show the potent effects of the drugs, without a drop of it ever being wasted in his veins; and scare the shit out of anyone who even _tried_ to cross the boss.

Apparently, rabid turtles had a tendency to eat people.

The lie didn't bug him. What they did to make it seem true is what still gave him nightmares.

_Blood_. Buckets of it fermented the air with its coppery stench. The odor clung to his skin like sewage in the pore of bricks. And became all his tongue ever tasted. For months he sat in the company of the congealing liquid, the darkness a canvas for an overactive imagination.

Donatello dreamt it. Himself, feral as an animal, tearing some foolish human apart. Over and over and over again. Disbelief fought against the facts that surrounded him, a battle as lopsided as a lamb versus a lion—because he could smell it, taste it, feel it... death was everywhere.

He wondered when it would be his turn.

Fate liked to throw screwballs. And it loved to aim them where they'd hurt the most. The police raids came after the young turtle's teary eyed resignation that this was his life.

Him being hauled up by the lip of his shell, chained, and thrown into a truck; the hours of haphazard bouncing that left him with bruises... that's how his nightmare finally ended.

It was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.

A Registration Office saw him filed into the Private Agreement again, and like a puppy at a pound, he was locked away to wait for a human to pick him out. His past made him an old dog, though, an _unwanted_. Sick as that was. No one yearned for a mutant salvaged from a crack house.

And so the cycle began again.

As the weeks passed hope shriveled up in Don's young chest, it became a noose around his heart, squeezing tighter each day. Rationalizing clouded his doe brown eyes until reality faded out. Noises played at his ears, begging attention, but thoughts and ideas took precedence.

The mind truly was a sanctuary. A realm where sanity walked a fine edge, to stay safe it hid in any shadow it could find, even those that harbored things that tore at its threads. Madness was a matter of _when_. Not if. Not how. Not even why.

Logic didn't bored well with lunacy, after all...

There was an employee, a woman as short as an elf with a smile sharper than glass shards, she liked him. But not in a good way. In her ruffled black uniform that dipped well past her fingertips, she'd stride up and run a baton across his cell's bars. "Donatello," she singsonged every syllable, then dropped her voice lower than a bass drum. "That's an Italian name, no?"

The turtle sank back, wishing for all the world he could retreat inside his shell. The cage wasn't large enough for him to keep away from her curious touch.

"I like Italian food." she mused, her muddy eyes glistening like a star's fire. "Olives too." He whimpered when she ran a finger against his foot. The elf of a girl just grinned. "I wonder where turtle soup came from?"

The taunts were always random, one day Don was food to her, the next he was a coat. Or maybe a hat for her bleached hair.

Donatello wondered if the woman was entitled to an employee discount, if she was saving up to buy him. Wouldn't that be a way to go? Still not the worse... but close.

_Rubicon_: a point of no return. It was the word that flashed across his mind's eye when the elf's baton echoed towards his cell one day. Her gait was accompanied by three others, and Don, wringing his small hands together, was sure that this was the end. Or the beginning of the end, at the very least.

No more new owners. His next and final prison would be the intestines of a psycho.

"This one bites," the elf spoke a half dozen cages from his. "But with a muzzle and some training—"

"No, we _do_ have a child, Mame." A woman interrupted.

"An ankle-biter," she giggled, "They'll get along great, common hobbies and such."

"We can't afford a high quality mutant," a man's voice cut in before any indignation could arise. "But surely there is _something_ around here that doesn't run the risk of mutilation."

Her baton rapped twice against the bars. "Sorry Fifi, looks like you're stuck with me." Something growled, heels clanked, and muffled laughter followed. "This way, folks!"

'This way' happened to be towards Don. The turtle dipped his chin and drew his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes, and counted every footfall; when he finally opened them, it was to red hair twisted into a bun.

"Looks rather young, wouldn't you say?" the woman, her hair the same vivid red as the one that barely peeked over the floor of Don's high cage, turned to her husband with thinning lips.

"Indeed. I don't want to train the darn thing." he replied.

Pale fingers invaded his cell, clawing into the metal until a green eyed gaze met his through the shadows. "I'll train him."

"He isn't like a pet, April. Mutants are dangerous."

April, a girl of maybe fourteen at the time, fell from her perch with a frown. "I know, dad."

"And you have school, honey."

"Right." April turned to her mom, eyes lighting up with ideas. "I forgot to tell you, Mrs. Alexander is teaching a class next semester on _MutantBehaviorandControl,_and this would be a great opportunity to learn more in the class."

"Blah blah blah," the elf cut in. "Do you want him or not?"

"Well, as compelling a point as that is—" her father started.

Her mom interrupted. "As your education is our top priority."

"Right. It's just that this certainly is not the most desirable creature for house service."

"Please? He looks smart..." the argument trailed off when the girl's parents merely shook their heads.

"It's him or Fifi back there," the elf deadpanned. "What about it, O'Neils?"

_Mr. O'Neil sighed heavily, his shoulders hitching high. "I suppose... he is better than the other filth we've seen. We'll take him."_

It was like pulling teeth, but there the words were, echoing through the building and in Don's ears. He sat up a little straighter, stared through the bars in shock, but never once did he speak. Never once did the humans seem to notice.

Through the harsh silver hall, a shrill whistle rang from the short woman. "Tag and bag, boys, little Donnie's outta here!" she called.

And Donatello wondered if he should be worried.

* * *

That had been nearly a decade ago. Since then Donatello's life has been turned on its head in the best of ways. No more cruel owners, no more confines, no more starvation or moldy food. And best of all, the mutant now had someone he could call a friend: April O'Neil.

Despite her parents' stern disapproval of her kind treatment towards him, the redhead didn't stray from his side. Through her high school years, April used Don as a sort of study partner, then more than that—an active intellect that pushed her to improvement and achievement beyond even her parents' dreams. They were colleagues; equal individuals who thrived towards the same goals. Who learned from each other.

They spoke of science with a passion.

A passion which Donatello thought he no longer possessed, not for anything. Yet there it was. Bright in his eyes and light in his heart, everything he looked at was a prospect for a new spark to come to life and fuel his brain for hours. Knowledge was an innocent power to him, a healthy addiction.

He doubted any drug could ever make him feel so high.

* * *

The front door whined open, slowly, as if afraid to alert the other residences of an arrival. Don gave a final pat to a throw pillow before politely turning to greet April. Her hair was disheveled, falling over her forehead in frizzy strands of a dozen lengths. She raked them back, her face haggard and shoulders slumped by some unnamed burden.

The sight was enough to dry the customary greeting up on Don's tongue. "April?"

She jumped at her name, her hand grappling to catch her heart before it could burst through her chest. "Oh," she breathed. "Donnie, you scared me."

"What's wrong?" he whispered, helping her with her jade green jacket.

She kicked her shoes off, one at a time. "On my way home," she started, quietly, as if she didn't want to be overheard. "There was this crowd in the middle of the street—"

"April, is that you dear?" her mother called.

April inhaled sharply, as if to draw her words back in. "Yeah!" she answered, but her apologetic eyes were on Don. "I'll tell you later."

The next moment high heeled footsteps paced their way. "Well come in here, sweetheart. You're late." Mrs. O'Neil appeared around the corner as Donatello carefully hung April's things on a rack. Silver locks shone starkly amongst the vibrate reds of the aging woman's hair, catching in the entrance's overhead lights like secrets spoken too loud. She's not as young as she once was, but she's still beautiful.

"Late?" April echoed.

"Dear, don't tell me you forgot about the News Documentary already?" she clasped her hands before her. "It's about to start."

Composure returned in a single scarlet framed smile. She shook her head as if she were being silly. "It's just been a long day, mom." she said.

"You can tell me over dinner. Donatello," her voice turned colder. "I suspect you know the channel..."

"Yes Mame." he bowed, shot April a concerned look, and slipped back into the living room.

Much like everything else in the house, the television was older. It flickered on with a buzz of un-tuned static, the picture a mess of black and white fuzz. With practiced ease, Don adjusted the antennas until the signal came in crisp and clear.

"—ave you tonight with this raw footage, sent to us just moments ago by an amateur cameraman." the voice of a reporter said as Don stepped away.

On the screen flashed cement and red sneakers as someone raced towards a roar of jeers. The angle straightened abruptly, panning across a wall of shirts and pumping fists.

"Dirty mutant!"

"Filth!"

"You're just a freak!"

Suddenly there was a bob of red in the corner of the screen. "Can't you see, he was just trying to help!" the color drained from Don's face, because he _knew_ that voice. "You, he was just trying to help you!"

The cameraman forced himself through the crowd, riddling the sound with static and thumps. And there she was in her jade green jacket, her arms spread protectively in front of an emerald skinned mutant, her face determined.

But April wasn't the only individual Donatello recognized.

Something stirred in the turtle's gut as he watched a glass bottle shatter behind April's head, spilling blood from the mutant who only stood there, bright amber eyes disappearing behind a liquid red curtain.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Thank you all for reading. Reviews and feedback would be greatly appreciated; I'd love to hear what you think about this thus far :)

Until the next time,

~Cat, Rebel, Aetas


End file.
